The Protector
by Predominantly Normal
Summary: He was Craig's favorite, and Craig was his Protector. But he wasn't supposed to know that, and now his life may be at risk. AU/Slash/Creek
1. Tweek Meets Nineteen

**I** **DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

**Hey, FFn. It's been what, a month? Sorry. I've been in a rut with coming up with ideas and ****_oh Jesus_**** midterms were awful. **

**Anyways I had a dream and this is the result of that. It's definitely and AU, considering ninety-percent of my fics are. Adventure and Supernatural, too, because there is an upsetting lack of those genres in this fandom. **

**Inspired by the Percy Jackson series.**

**NOTE: Craig will be referred to as 'Nineteen' for a shot while. Bear with me, please.**

**OTHER NOTE: I need a Beta reader. Bad. PM me if you're interested, I guess.**

* * *

Chapter One

Tweek Meets Nineteen

Tweek Tweak was a very lucky boy.

Nobody would figure that upon first glance, because he stumbled around and twitched and yanked on his hair, but he was. Oddly enough, though, he was lucky because he was unlucky. He came in range of a casualty almost every day, and almost every day he ended up alive and unscathed by some form of miracle.

Like in the first grade, when he had stumbled into the street to get a ball. He toddled into the street, his eyes set on the red bouncy rubber in front of him, and his mind so occupied with getting to it, he didn't notice the car. Tweek doesn't remember much- only a heavy wind kicking in the moment his brains should have been splattered across the asphalt and him suddenly being a good five feet away from where he was standing only moments ago.

Or in the fifth, when he managed to fall down an escalator, and just kept tumbling down and down and down. Nobody went to help him (They were too busy whipping out whatever cameras they had to go and slap the emergency switch), but out of some stroke of good luck, the escalator stopped and he had a chance to pick himself back up and limp away.

Or in the ninth, when his whole house caught on fire, and the blackened smoke clogged his lungs. He couldn't breathe, and for once, he didn't find smoke in his mouth quite so appealing. He passed out in the inferno, but somehow he awoke on the damp half-frozen grass right outside his house, and still very alive.

He should have been dead by now. Not only dead, but completely mutilated, crushed, and seared to a mushy crisp of guts and brains. But he wasn't.

Sometimes he felt as if he was being watched over. When he was just a kid and demanded bedtime stories, his mama had told him about guardian angels. His mama was a very religious woman, and she always told him about the angels and heaven and how he'd always be safe. Tweek never doubted her once, especially since he had been saved several too many times to be skeptical.

Tweek liked to imagine his guardian angel a lot. He pictured a lovely young lady with long honey blonde hair and a gentle smile, watching over him protectively. He didn't dare tell anyone else though. You get beaten up for that kind of stuff. And the last thing Tweek wanted was to get more acquainted with the fists of the football team.

Sitting on the rock-hard seats of the bus, Tweek tried to ignore the fact that Cartman was obnoxiously chewing his gum behind him. Cartman was probably the biggest source of stress in Tweek's life. He was round as a beach ball, with a piggish face, and black pits where his eye color should have been. He just wouldn't leave the kid alone, and he taunted and tormented him every single day. The bus was the worst, though. He'd trip Tweek as he got on, shot spitballs at him, and try to get a rise out of him in any way possible.

Tweek groaned, and whipped around, glaring at the fat boy as he chewed with a grin that split his face in half. It wasn't even like he was chewing. It was like his lower jaw was falling off and the gum was the only thing he had to stick it to the hinge.

"Can you please stop?" Tweek asked as politely as possible, twitching violently. Cartman snickered and stopped his chewing, shoving his pudgy fingers into his mouth and pulling out the piece of slobbery gum. He grinned maliciously and leant forward so that his disgusting hot breath bounced off of Tweek's face as he spoke.

"_Sure_, Tweeky," He purred out, wadding up the gum in his dirty hands and grabbing Tweek's neck. Tweek went rigid and whimpered pitifully. Ignoring him, Cartman jammed the gum deep in his wild blonde hair and laughed viciously as he screamed.

Tweek tried to pull out the gum, but it only got more and more stuck, gluing itself to his scalp and strands of hair. He whined in dismay and slammed his forehead against the seat in front of him. And as soon as he thought it couln't get any worse, Cartman produced another stick of gum and began to chew that even more violently than before.

By time Tweek managed to get to his class, his hair was bright mint green with sticky gum, and he was ready to hole himself up under his desk and cry. He sniffled indignantly, stumbling to his desk in the very back of the room and chugging his coffee.

"Hi, Tweek," Tweek shot up and his clear blue eyes darted around before landing on the bemused face of Kyle. "I, uh, like what you did with you hair," he said in the nicest tone possible. Tweek yowled in dismay and slammed his head against the desk. If only he had a hat! But, on the other side, wearing hats were kind of risky, because you never knew if they could access your brain and send secret information to the FBI. Tweek shivered just thinking about it.

Mr. Reynolds stepped in, and the class hushed. Tweek bit his lip taking another long drink of coffee and straining his ears over the whispers of his classmates as to hear what the teacher was saying. He had a long drawling voice that was something of a very loud whisper, so it was difficult to hear over the mutters of, "I heard Kelly's snogging Percy", or "I think Anna's going out with Jason".

"Mr. Tweak," Mr. Reynolds barked (Which was honestly just a little louder than his usual tone), "answer question six please," Tweek yelped and his eyes snapped to his book, staring at the problems.

_**6.) If y=6x+7 and x+y=4 are on the same graph, at which point do they intersect?**_

"I- I don't know! Pressure!" Tweek squealed, earning a few chuckles and sighs of exasperation from his classmates.

"Well go ahead- solve the problem." Mr. Reynolds crossed his arms, glaring at Tweek expectantly. His eyebrow was arched, and to say he looked dissatisfied was an understatement.

Tweek shakily gripped his pencil and began scratching all over his paper, trying desprately to figure out the answer so everybody could stop staring at him like he was some piece of meat. He twitched, finally managing to write out some sort of answer.

"Point 6,8?" Tweek asked nervously, gnawing on his lower lip.

Mr. Reynolds groaned, an audible soft clapping noise coming from him as his hand slapped his forehead. "Wrong, Mr. Tweak. Next time think a little bit. How about you, Dylan?" Tweek hid his beet-red face under his arm.

Tweek drowned out the teacher's monotone voice with his own thoughts, cracking open his journal (No, it was NOT a diary, and NOT for little girls) and writing down whatever came to mind. He wrote a lot in his journal, and a lot about his guardian angel, because if she was watching over him, he may as well show that he acknowledges her. As he scratched out the last sentence, the bell rung, and he scooped up his things and scampered out the door.

The rest of Tweek's day went uneventfully. He almost drank a beaker of battery acid and antifreeze thinking it was his thermos in science, nearly got trampled in gym, and almost stabbed himself with scissors in art. Nothing truly out of ordinary happened until after school.

Tweek stepped down the icy steps leading to the school. The cold air bit his cheeks, and the crisp mountain air breezed by gently. Tweek liked cold days like this. Of course, living in South Park, there was either freezing cold or moderately cold, and when it wasn't the latter, it was most always the former.

In the split second where Tweek was twisting his head to find his bus, he caught the eye of a huge boarish football player. He looked at Tweek evilly and smirked. Without missing a beat, he started to stomp towards Tweek, who could do nothing but tremble in fear.

"Hey, Brucy!" He yelled, beckoning to his pack member.

Tweek ducked down lower to the snow, trembling and clutching on to his journal for dear life. He pressed it close to his chest, eyes wide as another boy (Presumably Bruce) walked up to his friend. The jock's large boot was clamped over Tweek's loose jeans, and he grinned as Tweek tried to tug himself free.

"'Sup, Marshall?" Bruce asked, high-fiving his friend. Tweek groaned. They didn't have to make it a theatrical play! Just beat him up and get it over with for God's sake! He was quivering, and scared, and he felt like crying again because they just wouldn't leave him _alone_!

"So I'm walkin' out of school, yeah? And you know what I'm seein'?" Marshall asked, feigning innocence.

"What're you seein'?" Bruce asked, looking far too interested.

"I'm seein' a little pussy tryin' ta make eye contact wit' me." Marshall closed in on Tweek, fist poised.

Tweek flinched, unable to clamp his eyes shut. His blue orbs were perpetually large as saucers, and positively radiating fear. Marshall ducked down and clutched Tweek's hair, snickering when he seen the gum that was still stuck to it. "An' you know what we do to little pussies, right, Brucy?" He drawled. his spit collided with Tweek's cheek, and Tweek whined pathetically.

Bruce didn't get to answer. A boy appeared to intervene, and Tweek screamed, because the boy literally _materialized_ out of _thin air_. He punched Bruce hard in the nose and the brute went down, clutching his face which began to spout blood. He turned to Marshall and growled. The boy turned and Tweek got a full view of him. He was thin, and he had piercing blue eyes that were two shades brighter than humanely possible. A blue aviator's hat covered his head, and tufts of raven hair peeked out. Embarrassingly enough, the first thing Tweek thought that moment was, _'Wow, he's handsome'. _

"Leave him _alone_," He snarled, enunciating every word. He radiated fury, and Tweek wondered if he was planning on taking out the other guys so he could have the honors of ending Tweek's miserable life himself. Marshall didn't release Tweek, but grinned.

"An' who the hell are_ you_?" Marshall laughed.

"I'm... I'm called Nineteen," The boy said, as if he was unsure.

"What kind a' name is that?" Marshall nickered. Tweek struggled in his grip fruitlessly, still staring at Nineteen.

"Just get out of here. He's _mine_." Nineteen growled, and Tweek stopped thrashing. He was positive that Nineteen could pummel him in a much more brutal way than Marshall or his cronies ever could. Fear bubbled in his stomach, and he trembled, stiff as a rod. And just as proof that Marshall was as primal and animalistic as they came, he could smell fear. Without turning, he chuckled humorlessly and ripped Tweek up by his hair. Tweek screamed as pain flooded his scalp and propped himself up on his knees to dull the yanking on his hair.

"You wan' him?" Marshall taunted. "Go ahead; take him."

Tweek seen a blue flash, and the second following, Marshall lay on the ground, groaning in pain. A hand seized his shoulder and Tweek whimpered as Nineteen loomed over him.

"Get up," Nineteen ordered. Tweek complied, shakily picking himself up. He didn't break eye contact with Nineteen, afraid the taller man would pummel him when he wasn't looking. Nineteen checked him over carefully, blue eyes scrutinizing his body.

"Are you okay?" Ninteen asked softly, his cold expression melting away. Not too much, though. Like from Ice-burg-cold to Canada-cold. "Did he hurt you bad?"

"No!" Tweek whined, shivering. "I'm sorry! Don't kill me! _Gah_!" He shrieked, holding his arms in front of his face protectively.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Nineteen said, grabbing his arms gently and coaxing them back to his sides. Tweek forced himself to relax.

"Who _are_ you?" He asked curiously, once he was absolutely certain this man wasn't going to hurt him too bad. Nineteen sighed, looking away. His frayed raven hair flopped over his eyes, and he blew it back away with a snort.

"Take me serious when I say this," Nineteen began, scratching the back of his neck. "But I'm your guardian angel. _Sort of." _


	2. Tweek Delves into Fashion

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

**Hey guys, I'm back! So yeah, the second chapter, man. Deep stuff. I'm not sure how I feel about this, like half of me wants to pace this really slowly and the other half of me is "HOLY SHIZ FUCK YEAH LETS YAOI". It's awkward. Anyways, this whole 'Society Creating' thing turned into a big boring exposition and that's basically this chapter. **

**HUGE THANKS TO STYLE MARSHLOVSKI AND IDRGAFF FOR BETA READING! WITHOUT YOU I'D BE LOST, MAN!**

* * *

_Vocabulary:_

_Cub- Noun/ Possessive word for the subject a Protector defends._

_Protector- Noun/ Lowest rank of the afterlife. One who defends an assigned Mortal subject._

_Pangea- (Pan-Gee-Yuh) Noun/ Place of afterlife for those who have died before living a full life._

* * *

Chapter 2

Tweek Delves into the Fashion Trends of the Dead

_Protector's Etiquette: Rule #1 Do not let yourself be seen by your Cub._

"What?" Tweek shook wildly, scampering away from Nineteen and crashing against the cold snow. "What are you playing at?! What do you want from me?! Leave me alone!" Tweek twitched and cowered, wagering that he just made the very dangerous looking man dangerously angry and that he would very soon drop-kick Tweek through the nearest window. Dangerously. Sure, the man said he wasn't going to hurt Tweek, but he could be lying. Better safe than sorry- especially with Tweek's luck.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" Nineteen snarled out impatiently, earning a garbled apology and shriek from the tiny blond. Frowning, Nineteen opted not to move towards Tweek, but instead kneeled down as if he were talking to a frightened animal. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said again, softer and gentler this time.

"Who are you?" Tweek screamed out, amazed that his obnoxiously loud voice didn't stir the two unconscious brutes.

"I'm your Protector," Nineteen said quietly.

"You said you were a guardian angel!" Tweek narrowed his eyes in distrust and clutched at the powdery snow. "Which one?" He frantically yanked at his hair, eyes unblinking in fear as Nineteen started to walk closer to him.

"Protector. Guardian angel is sort of a slang term," Nineteen said, standing only inches away from Tweek's feet. "Only used by Christians and such," he explained dryly.

Tweek nodded furiously. Nineteen ducked down so that his eyes were level with Tweek's. They were scary pale, like staring at the chrome finish on a blue car. Void of life, but full of spirit. And honestly, Tweek found that petrifying; not beautiful in the least. Nineteen carefully extended his hand and Tweek flinched.

"Please, don't hurt me! I'm sorry!" he begged.

Nineteen's cold palm rested on Tweek's forearm. "Does this hurt?" He asked almost sarcastically. He squeezed reassuringly and hauled Tweek up, despite the blond's protests.

"No," Tweek murmured sheepishly, avoiding Nineteen's gaze.

"Good. C'mon, let's go before these two assholes wake," Nineteen said, ushering Tweek down the salted sidewalks to his house. Tweek was quiet for a long time, just listening to the annoying jangle of Nineteen's many belt buckles and the loud thwap of his clunky steel-soled boots as they slapped against the sidewalk. Noticing Tweek's annoyance, Nineteen tinged pink in embarrassment.

"They're, uh- a big fashion trend up in _Pangea_," he muttered nervously.

"_Pangea_? Fashion trend?" Tweek squeaked.

"Er- what you Mortals call Heaven. And yeah, it's a huge fashion trend," Nineteen said awkwardly, trying to take smaller, gentler steps to muffle the loud clanging metal. If only he had wings to fly. Or at least some sort of way to float. For a supernatural being, walking was kind of degrading.

"I thought angels wore those white dresses and played harps and stuff?" Tweek thought out loud curiously. Catching the amused glint in Nineteen's eye, he reeled back and waved his hands in a wild gesture. "I mean- not that- you're- uh- Jesus!" He yelled in exasperation.

"Nope. S'all about these obnoxious metal buckles and banjos now," Nineteen said, bemused at the look of confusion on Tweek's face. "Togas and harps are so one hundred years ago. Gotta get with the times."

"One hundred years?! How the hell old are you!?" Tweek yelped. Nineteen replied before the blond could start screaming apologies.

"I'm... still nineteen years old. Don't really age after you've died." Nineteen rubbed his chin. Hell, he didn't even know how many years he'd served as a Protector. Before Tweek, he'd guarded a young girl with a name that escaped him. Maybe he'd served what, eighty years? Ninety? It was hard to tell time in Pangea.

"Your name is the same as your age? Ironic," Tweek mused quietly. It probaby wasn't meant to be heard, considering Tweek hadn't expected nor wanted any reply.

"Nineteen isn't my name," the man said abruptly, scaring Tweek out of his wits. He muttered a half-hearted apology before continuing. "It's just my ID number. Protectors aren't allowed to know anything about their past. Names included." Upon seeing Tweek's look of shock and bewilderment, Nineteen kept going. "It's so we don't try and neglect our Cubs to protect our families." Tweek nodded dumbly, not really understanding this confusing society. They walked the rest of the way in silence to Tweek's house.

Tweek's home was the fine definition of the word. It was warm, with the wafting scent of cinnamon and baking coming from the kitchen. The walls were coffee brown, and the carpets were a splotchy creamer white. Nineteen hadn't really ever been inside the house physically, so the pleasant scent and the cozy atmosphere enticed him the moment he walked in. "Wow," he whispered breathlessly. It went unnoticed, however, as Tweek pushed past him.

"I'm home!" Tweek called out. "I brought a, um- friend?" Tweek would definitely not call this man his friend, especially since they'd just met. And since Nineteen could probably sucker-punch him from there to Alaska, where he'd be forced to hunt for fish with the penguins for the rest of his life. He quivered at the image of eating raw meat in his head. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed Nineteen going off to look at some of his mother's religious folk art.

"Hm, hon?" Mrs. Tweak poked her head out of the kitchen, looking like something of a swan, with a long, thin neck and delicate frame. "Who's this now?" She asked with a pleasant smile, walking up to Nineteen to greet him.

"Nineteen," Tweek said, looking at the man suspiciously. Nineteen was scrutinizing a painting, a confused scowl on his face. He looked scarier than ever. Tweek wanted to scream for his mother to run as far away as she could and call the cops when she approached him, but it came out as a strangled whimper instead. _Hopefully,_ he thought bitterly, _she got the message._

"Oh, I painted that myself!" Tweek's mom said sweetly, unbeknownst to the pillar of power and intimidation right in front of her.

"That's not what it looks like," Nineteen deadpanned, "Pa- Heaven, I mean. Nobody can walk on clouds, and nobody has wings. And there are men who are angels." Tweek cleared his throat out awkwardly, ripping Nineteen away from his mother. She looked devastated at best that someone would just go and insult her art like that. Tweek apologized for his 'friend' and pushed Nineteen up the stairs and into his room with nerve he hadn't possessed fifteen minutes ago.

"What the hell, man?!" Tweek snapped, "You can't just do that! Mom worked really hard on that!" He cringed, feeling as if he sounded more like a bratty whining child rather than a seventeen year old.

"I'm trained to be honest," Nineteen shrugged. "If you seen a painting up in Pangea of your world in which it was completely wrong, what would you say?"

"I'd hold my tongue, because that's rude!" Tweek shot back angrily. "Mom read books about Heaven, and seen pictures about Heaven. She doesn't know what Pan- whatever it's called- is!" He stood there for a moment, heaving and out of breath.

Nineteen nodded. "I apologize," he said cordially, dipping his head.

"Don't apologize to me!" Tweek snapped. "Apologize to my mom!" You could say whatever you wanted about Tweek, but as soon as his mother came into the discussion there were no spluttered apologies. No twitching, or spazzing, or clumsiness, or falling over his own words. Only his fist and your face, if you were lucky. And Tweek was about ready to turn Nineteen's face into a flat surface. Maybe to be of use as a new coffee table.

"Of course," Nineteen muttered, looking like a scolded young child. He stood up, looking regal even as he trudged shamefully out of Tweek's room and downstairs. Tweek pressed his ear to the floor, so he could make sure Nineteen was keeping up on his word.

"I apologize for what I said, ma'am. I'm... a different religion, and I just get carried away sometimes." Tweek imagined Nineteen holding up crossed fingers behind his back (which wasn't far off, considering Nineteen's middle finger was up, hidden from Mrs. Tweak's view).

"Oh, that's alright, sweetie. I'll have to paint something for you and put it up, won't I?" Tweek sighed. His mom really was an angel. And he really meant an angel. None of this 'Protector' bullshit. He picked himself up and threw himself on his bed.

Nineteen walked back up the stairs and nodded. "Happy?" he asked.

"No," Tweek snapped shortly.

Nineteen sighed. "Can I do something to make you happy? It's my job to keep you safe, you know. I think happiness comes with the package." He tinged a little pink, but brushed it off so quickly, Tweek figured he just imagined it.

"Why me?" Tweek asked dismally. "Out of all the kids in the whole world to meet a- a Protector, why me?"

"Not many kids have Protectors, Tweek," Nineteen explained. "Only those who died without living full lives may be apt to be Protectors. That's squat to the amount of kids in the world."

"So only kids can go to Heaven?" Tweek whimpered.

"No. You can live to one-hundred and not have a full life," Nineteen said, smiling sadly. "But I fully intend to get you right to Paradise. S'my job, you know." Tweek looked at Nineteen suspiciously. He didn't know if he should squander the moment before he really lost his mind, or drink in every word coming from Nineteen like coffee. The older of the two wasn't making sense. Tweek grew up his whole life believing in Heaven, and God, and all that, only for it to be destroyed in less than a day by a man he didn't even know.

Tweek didn't have much time to his own thoughts before Nineteen snapped his fingers and stood up furiously fast.

"I've got it," he proclaimed. "Tweek, I've got it!"

Tweek twitched and found the familiar feeling of fear rolling in his chest cavity like a dust storm. "What?!" He yelped anxiously, hiding under his covers.

"My name! It's been bothering me since you've brought it up, but I think I know how to find it out," Nineteen said, pacing across Tweek's carpet like a madman.

"How?" Tweek asked softly, praying to whatever the hell was up there that it didn't have anything to deal with sacrificing a young awkward blond kid. Then he'd really be out of luck.

"Stan! He's a Keeper and-"

"A what?" Tweek cut him off.

"A Keeper! He guards the Vault of Memories, which is- wait, never mind, I'll tell you later. What matters is my name! He can help me find my name!" Nineteen whipped around to Tweek. "Will you be alright without me for a few hours?" he asked. Tweek doubted he could last fifteen minutes without some sort of protection, but he obliged.

"I'll be fine, I hope," Tweek said dismissively, watching Nineteen uncharacteristically grin with giddiness. The man gave Tweek one last farewell before dissipating into the air, much like how he materialized, but backwards. Like sand blowing away to nowhere, leaving Tweek alone with only his thoughts and his bed sheets.

Tweek never slept. Not much, anyways. His nights were spent playing virtual poker on his computer, or trying to solve the Rubix cube he started two years ago. But the events that had taken place had positively drained him. He curled in his bed without a second thought and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the mattress. He didn't have dreams, only sweet, quiet darkness.

He felt as if it lasted only a second, if even that.

When he woke up, it was to raspy conversations between two voices he didn't recognize. Tweek's eyelids fluttered halfway open, and he heard a soft, "Quiet, he's waking up!" Tweek's eyes shot open the rest of the way, and he sprung up like a vaulting maneuver. When he saw the two ethereal beings in front of him, smoke whisking off their bodies and dressed in garments similar to Nineteen, he cried out in fear and hid back under his blankets.

"Not more!" Tweek whimpered. "Just leave me alone!"

"Oh my God, he's precious!" a female voice squealed. "Sweetie, we aren't here to hurt you."

"Ha!" Tweek shouted. "Don't even try that! One of your little minions already tried that move on me!"

"_Minions?_" a male voice asked, snickering. "Holy shit, man! He means Nineteen!" Tweek perked up.

"Nineteen? Where is he? He said he'd be back," Tweek whimpered frantically, whipping around and looking pleadingly at the two beings in front of him. "What did you do to him?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I mean- I didn't think you- I'm sorry! Don't kill me, I-"

"S'okay, dude. Chill," the male, a sandy blonde with an elfish face, interjected.

"Come with us. We'll explain on the way," the female, a beautiful looking girl with intelligent blue eyes, said. Tweek found it surprisingly easy to trust this lady. She had a sort of comforting maternal air to her that reminded him of his mom. He slowly plucked himself off his bed and inched towards her, keeping his distance from the sandy blond. He had a wicked grin gracing his face that positively shouted_, 'I kill young unsuspecting children and I like it!'_ Tweek saw name tags on their vests. Kenny and Wendy. Nice names. Had he heard them before? Like as mass murderers or kidnappers? Probably not. He hoped not.

"Aw, he's scared sick!" the sandy blond boy, presumably Kenny, said. "He's cute! Can we keep him?" Wendy rolled her eyes and gently grabbed Tweek's hand.

"Close your eyes," she ordered. "You're going to feel a tiny little pinch, okay?"

What happened next was most certainly not a tiny little pinch. Tweek felt as if he were being squished and stretched apart at the same time, with flames of fire licking his body and ice freezing it over. It was the most unpleasant thing he'd ever experienced, and he hoped he could just take the seven o'clock flight home or something.

Just as soon as the pain streaked through his body, it subsided. Tweek lay on all fours, gasping. Sweat covered his face as he clutched the asphalt beneath him. Asphalt? Tweek whipped up, gathering his boundaries. Asphalt roads wound up and around, curling between brick houses with thatched roofs and alleyways. Fires were alight, casting a warm glow down the whole street. Tweek relished the comforting warmth from them. Men and women of all ages sat crosslegged on the streets, strumming their banjos and jangling their buckles like percussion drums. The smell of fresh bread invaded his nose.

"Where are we?" Tweek didn't dare disturb the atmosphere. He spoke in a quiet, breathy voice, which wasn't difficult considering his awe. Kenny was the one to speak up, clearing his throat and grinning crookedly. He gestured towards the fire-light engulfed town, swelling with pride.

"Welcome to Pangea."

* * *

**Thanks to: Leyna4eva, Rival Lover, BeansOfYuki, and Guest for their kickass reviews! I'm sorry this couldn't be up sooner, but I'm a lazy asshole. I'll try to speed up the updates, though! :3**


	3. Tweek Becomes a Spanish Devil

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

**Hey folks. Alright, since updates don't go the usual one-week they used to when I went without Betas, I oughta explain something. Updates will take 2 and 1/2 weeks tops, with one week to write, one week to edit, and one half a week to compensate for me being a lazy asshole. Also, happy Valentines! I hope your day was filled with lots of cute relationship things! **

**ALL MY THANKS TO MY AMAZING BETA READERS, STYLE MARSHLOVSKI AND IDRGAFF! HOPE YOU GUYS HAD FUN THIS VALENTINES DAY BECAUSE YOU'RE AWESOME AND YOU DESERVE IT!**

* * *

_Vocabulary: _

_Seeker: Position ranking above the Protector, but below the Keeper. Enforces laws and scouts for Mortals in need of Protectors. Angels at this rank may know their names._

_Keeper: Position ranking above both Protector and Seeker, but below the King. Guards and maintains the Vault of Memories. Angels at this rank are granted wings._

_King: Highest rank. Acts as judge in court, orders out quests, and keeps order in Pangea. Also promotes or demotes rankings to others._

_Vault of Memories: Where Keepers store the memories of those that have passed so they may be used for information or so they are not lost._

_Banishing Sword: Ancient Pangean relic._

_Cornice: Base of the triangular façade on Greek-styled temples._

* * *

Chapter 3

Tweek Becomes a Spanish Devil

_Protector's Etiquette: Rule #2 Do not leave your Cub for any reason whatsoever_

Tweek now understood where Nineteen was coming from with his comments on his mother's art. Compared to the oil on canvas that encapsulated Heaven, Pangea was much, much different. The scenery that seemed to belong only in fantasy took him by surprise.

"Oh man," Tweek whispered breathlessly. "Wow."

"Nice, isn't it?" Kenny winked, grinning. "C'mon, kid. We can take the long way," he said, gently urging Tweek to walk.

"Where are we going?" Tweek asked, scrunching up his brow. "Where's Nineteen?"

"With any luck, Nineteen's doing just fine. He's broken a couple of laws, Tweeky." Tweek cringed at Kenny's pet name for him, but said nothing. Kenny had the same freakishly blue eyes as Nineteen, and no doubt he could pummel Tweek just as well.

"We're going up to meet him now. He's probably already on trial," Wendy said. "I'm glad Stan doesn't pull this kind of junk." Tweek perked up.

"Stan? You know Stan? Nineteen said something about a Stan. He was a Keeper or something? Are you a Keeper too?" Tweek said in rapid succession, curiously drinking in the landscape as he talked. Folks playing their instruments and singing softly gave him cordial nods and grinned, as if to say, _"Oh, boy, a human! Fresh meat!"_

"Yes, I know Stan," Wendy blushed, the pink in her cheeks undetectable in the low torchlight. "And Kenny and I? We're Seekers, not Keepers. Very different. We enforce laws and find people in need of Protectors. Kenny handpicked you for Nineteen," Wendy explained. "Nineteen was assigned to you just as you were about to be run over a few years ago." Tweek tried not to think about that last sentence.

"Good thing I did, too! Or you would've been SPLAT all over the ground before you could speak!" Kenny said cheerfully. Tweek tried not to think about that, either.

Tweek found it hard to believe that Kenny and Wendy could possibly be hundreds of years old. They acted and looked just like him. Maybe not _exactly_ like him, but like regular teenagers. The trio walked for a long time, past warm fire-lit streets to big bustling Greek-styled buildings. They reminded Tweek a lot of when he went to Washington, D.C. a few years ago, looking at the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial.

They eventually stopped at a large white marble building. It couldn't have been less than one-hundred feet tall, with long gothic arches adorning the sides and enormous pillars holding up the vaulted roof. Tweek stared at it for the longest time, caught somewhere between wishing he had brought a camera and wondering what would happen if it collapsed with him inside.

"Come on, Tweeky. In we go," Kenny chided, shoving Tweek inside the arched double doors. Tweek stumbled in, nearly slipping on the polished wax floors.

If the outside was impressive, it was put to shame by the inside. Tweek instantly felt as if he were thrown into a Harry Potter book and almost expected a large, bearded man to tell him he was a wizard. The entrance hall stretched into a dizzyingly long corridor, with huge doors dotting the sides probably leading to other halls. Intricately sculpted pillars seemed to erupt from the ground and plant themselves in the ceilings, with details the size of ants engraved into them. The ceilings were vaulted and gilded gold, with large stained glass windows opening up to the sky above.

"We take a lot of influence from Mortals," Wendy said matter-of-factly. "Lots of this place was designed by studying your churches and courtrooms. Nice, isn't it?" Tweek could only nod like an idiot as he was led down the halls.

They arrived at a pair of deep red double doors with handles much higher than any man could reach. They were at least fifty feet up, and as large as bathtubs.

"How the hell do we get to those?!" Tweek whimpered, craning his neck to look up at them.

"We throw you as hard as we can," Kenny snickered cheekily, only to apologize and insist he was joking seconds later as Tweek broke into hysterics. Wendy shot him a glare, and tried her best to stop Tweek from crying. It was fruitless, but Tweek supposed it was the thought that counted.

"No, don't worry, sweetie. We just wait for Stan to let us in. He should be here soon," Wendy soothed. Unfortunately, this made everything so much worse for him. Tweek pictured Stan as a one-hundred foot tall giant, with saliva cascading down his fangs as he scooped Tweek up and ate him.

"I don't want to be eaten!" Tweek screamed, ripping at his hair ruthlessly. Kenny laughed lightly, gently yanking Tweek's hands off his scalp.

"Don't worry, Tweeky. Stan's a wimpy little vegetarian. No wonder he's stuck in Pangea," Kenny said, patting Tweek's back roughly. Wendy rolled her eyes, sighing and rubbing her cuticles.

After ten long minutes, Wendy perked up and stared down the hall. "Stan!" she yelled cheerfully, waving him over. Tweek was relieved to see that Stan was not, in fact, a giant murderous beast. In fact, he almost looked like Nineteen.

He had a blue knit beanie with red fringe. His short black hair just slightly stuck out the back, and his deep blue eyes seemed much kinder than Kenny's or Nineteen's. He walked up to them and grinned, giving Wendy a quick peck on the cheek before looking Tweek up and down.

"So you're Nineteen's Cub, eh?" Stan said. Amusement etched his rugged features as he looked down upon the pathetic shaking lump of flesh and bone. "Haven't seen a real Mortal up here in what- four hundred years?"

Kenny chuckled, "Yeah, dude. And that was an accident!"

"Alright, I'll open up the doors for you guys. Stand back," Tweek scrambled a good thirty feet away and ducked, ready to bolt if Stan suddenly transformed into a bloodthirsty giant. Wendy and Kenny gave him a look, but didn't say anything.

Stan leapt into the air, and before Tweek's own eyes, huge white feathers tore out from his shoulder blades and erupted into the hall. Tweek watched, amazed as they worked in harmony, sowing together and crafting into something that loosely resembled dove wings. However, the massive smoky wings were at least as long as school buses and twice as wide. Tweek didn't say a word, too awestruck for his voice to work.

Stan beat his wings, sending him sailing right to the knob of the door. Wind blew past Tweek, and he was momentarily afraid he'd be blown away. Stan gently tugged the doors open and waved the three of them inside.

"Nineteen said angels didn't have wings!" Tweek screamed over the helicopter roar of wind caused by Stan flapping his wings to hover above them. Kenny ushered him inside a white marble courtroom.

"Keepers do," Kenny said as Stan slammed the doors shut once more and floated back down to the trio, his beautiful wings shedding like mad as he descended. The white dove feathers floated in midair before vanishing.

Then Stan was standing on solid ground again, staring ahead into the courtroom. Tweek followed his gaze to look directly at a man with a lean face and curly blond hair. He looked something like a pirate, with a loose orange cotton shirt and black pants. A rapier was even hooked to his belt, and he toyed with it subconsciously.

"That's the King," Kenny whispered. "Don't ask me how a self-righteous prick like him came to power; we have a democracy." The King stared at Tweek as if he were a little potato bug that he could roll onto its back and watch struggle.

"We've brought the Mortal," Wendy said loudly, her voice echoing around the room. Stan slunk off to an empty chair under the King's seat. Tweek stepped back and hid himself behind Kenny. The King seemed to laugh at this act of cowardice, and his eyes flashed with cold amusement.

"Come here, Mortal," the King ordered. Kenny ripped Tweek off his back and shoved him forwards into the center of the large room. Tweek shrunk, looking around desperately for Nineteen. He certainly didn't like Nineteen, but he was a thousand times better than everyone else here. Tweek's frantic gaze finally rested on the blue aviator's hat that belonged to Nineteen, and the man with striking blue eyes under it. Nineteen looked stressed, with worry lines creased deep in his forehead.

"Now that the Mortal is here, I can finally pass my verdict," the King smiled coldly. "Tweek Tweak!" he roared, earning a scream out of the blond teenager. "Nineteen has affiliated with your physical world. Do you deny this?" Tweek glanced at Nineteen, who looked tense and nervous.

Stan mouthed the word '_lie_' out of the corner of Tweek's vision, but Tweek refused. Lying would probably land him into more trouble. Honestly, all he wanted to do was go back home and forget this ever happened. But something told him that it wouldn't be happening soon.

"Uh- No?" Tweek said meekly.

"Then it has been decided! Nineteen will face one-hundred years of unforgiving labor and agony in the Pit!" Tweek's breath hitched. The King looked almost happy to be proclaiming this.

"Wait!" Tweek shouted without thinking. Before he could gain the common sense to shut the hell up before he got incinerated by angel magic or something, he spluttered out, "There's gotta be another way, right? Nineteen's been a good protector!" Tweek knew very well that if he let Nineteen go to whatever the Pit was without speaking up, then Nineteen would definitely get vengeance on him and kill him in his sleep! He couldn't risk that.

"As much as Nineteen is a stick up my ass, I'll have to agree with his Cub. This is his first offense, after all. Give him a chance, King," Stan said with the ghost of a smug grin on his face.

The King relented, sighing and trying far too hard to grin wide. "Fine," he said, sneering. "Then I shall propose a quest to Nineteen. If he completes the task within one week, then he will be taken off probation. If he does not... then both he and his Cub will face fifty years in the Pit."

Nineteen began to speak up, but obviously thought better of it and sat back down.

"What is their task, King?" Stan asked, his grin dropping. He stared at Tweek intensely, calm pools of blue igniting as if to say, _'Now you're both going to die. Good going, jackass'. _Tweek whimpered.

"They must retrieve the Banishing Sword." A hushed whisper overcame the small jury, and Stan's face paled. Nineteen even looked a little sick. Tweek didn't quite understand the danger he was in. He figured they could just pick something up from a Vegas Pawnshop or something.

"Yes sir. I'll allow them into the Vault of Memories so they can get started," Stan said in a monotone voice. The King smiled, and with a wave of his hand, dismissed the court.

As soon as it was evident the court was adjourned, Tweek raced over to Nineteen, wide eyed and frankly scared as hell. He didn't know what this Banishing Sword was. He didn't get this. It was so confusing and scary and he felt like he should just curl up into a ball and never come out.

"Tweek, I'm so sorry, I-"

"C'mon, dickwad. No time to waste. Memories go by awful fast, y'know," Stan said, dragging Nineteen out and gently ushering Tweek back through the double doors. Kenny and Wendy waved a cordial goodbye before disappearing into the crowd of jurors.

They walked in silence for what seemed like forever, slipping through the huge entrance doors and weaving through the large white marble buildings. Large fires sat at the intersections, burning brightly. Tweek couldn't help but feel cold despite them.

Eventually, they came to a large white building. It looked like a bank would, with a large roof with the words '_Confidiamo in noi stessi' _engraved on the cornice.

"S'Italian for '_We trust in ourselves'_. It's sort of the motto around here," Nineteen explained as Stan flew up to another staggeringly tall doorknob and pulled the doors open, shoving both of them through with a particularly powerful gust.

"C'mon. We better hurry," Stan said. "Memories may seem like mere seconds, but they take much longer than the real world. A thirty second memory will waste forty five minutes at best." He lead them down a hallway of safes, looking at the scotch-taped index cards on each one.

Some of them were simple, like, 'Lincoln's Assassination', and some were as ridiculous as, 'Brad's mom breaking a hammock with a lamp'. Tweek figured that most of these would probably make good YouTube videos.

"Y'see, Tweek, when people die, they release the memories they've had and their experiences into the world. It's a Keeper's job to take them before they're lost to the wind. It's been a little difficult though since I'm the only Keeper currently in service. Lots of memories, only one me," Stan explained blankly, sifting through the files. "I'm hoping the King will consider allowing Wendy to become a Keeper along with me. It'd definitely give me a chance to catch my breath."

Stan finally came to a stop at a file cabinet with the index card reading, 'Banishing Sword is lost'.

"Here it is. Who's going in?" he asked, smiling and leaning on a bunch of cabinets.

"You go. I've… I've gotta check something out," Nineteen said, beginning to walk off. Tweek growled at him, but it was evident he had no choice.

"Alright, Tweek. All you've got to do is pull the drawer open. We'll be back for you in a few," Stan said, following Nineteen down the hall.

Tweek nervously counted to three before ripping the drawer open. At first he didn't feel anything different. Then it came. He felt as if he were being sucked into the file cabinet, and he screamed as he fell down the endless pit that should've only been a foot deep.

He landed in a dark looking cave. The air was hot and thick, and a young man with long straight blond hair and a beret stood in front of him. Without a second thought, Tweek somehow knew where he was. He had landed in Barcelona, Spain, in a cave thirty miles off the cityscape. Tweek went to go speak to the man, but he couldn't move. Instead, his body moved without his account and he realized he was seeing this through someone else's eyes.

"You have the weapon?" Tweek said in thick Spanish he didn't know. The boy in front of him nodded.

"I… yes, I do," the small boy said in a posh British accent. He moved his cloak, and revealed a glittering black blade. He pulled out the sword, a steely expression on his face. "I'm afraid I can't let it into the hands of a bloke like you, however."

"W-what are you saying?!" Tweek roared. "What about our plan?! Our future? Does that mean nothing to you?!" The small blond flinched, but didn't back down. He instead gripped the hilt of the weapon tighter.

"It means everything in the world," the boy said before lunging forward and catching Tweek off guard. Tweek screamed for his body to dodge and fight back, but it wouldn't move the way he wanted it to. It wasn't his body, or his memory, to control.

The blade made contact with Tweek's shoulder and he winced, crying out and grabbing his forearm. Blood dripped down Tweek's skin. Tweek regained his senses, thrusting his arm forward and grabbing the boy with sharp talons that were where his fingernails should have been.

Tweek smirked, but only for a second before he felt pain like no other sear through his gut. He screamed and clutched the boy harder. The blond growled weakly and his struggling grew dimmer and dimmer. Tweek ripped the sword from his gut and plunged it deep into the boy. All at once, black flames engulfed the boy and an explosion with massive force sent Tweek flying back into the real world.

He was clutching the handle of the drawer, shivering and breathing heavily. The pain he had experienced left tremors through his body, although it was subsiding quickly. Sweat leaked off his face, dripping to the ground. How long had it been? An hour or a week? Tweek couldn't tell. Like Nineteen had remarked what seemed like forever ago, time was hard in Pangea.

With all the effort he could muster, Tweek slammed the cabinet shut and leant against the cold metal safe. Nineteen wasn't back from whatever business he had to attend to, and Tweek was struggling to keep his eyes open. Finally relenting, he let his eyes slip shut and allowed the black wave of sleep to crash against him.

He hoped that when he woke up, he'd be home.

But he knew what wishful thinking that was, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Thanks to: xStylennybuttmanx, Rival Lover, and Style Marshlovski! **

**(This is very attention whorish and shallow, but I won't lie; more reviews equal motivation which equals a quicker update!)**


End file.
